


Nightmares

by Gizzwhizz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding over trauma, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzwhizz/pseuds/Gizzwhizz
Summary: Prompto is finding it hard to adjust to life in a world without Noctis or the even the sun. He might not be the only one.My piece for the "Found Beneath The Stars" Promnis Zine.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I don't tend to write a lot for the World of Ruin years, so this was a fun change of pace for me. It was especially fun to set a budding romance in that era with the word count restraints of a zine. I hope you all enjoy it!

In the beginning there seemed no question that they would stick together, even without Noctis. In all their time together, the Prince couldn’t be their only bond. Definitely not.

At least that’s what Prompto had thought.

Gladio was the first to go. As the nights grew longer he went after the daemons as if it were a personal vendetta, as if Noct would come back if he only killed enough of them. In no time at all the Shield was more or less permanently camped out at the Havens closer to Hammerhead.

Ignis was next. He had been quiet since the Crystal had taken Noct from them. Quiet in a way that he hadn’t been since the first days of his blindness. One morning he announced his plan to scour the royal tombs for any further information on the Crystal—and that he’d decided to take young Talcott with him as a research assistant.

The decision stung in a way Prompto wasn’t expecting. Not just that Ignis was leaving, but that he had chosen someone else to travel with. He told himself it wasn’t personal, but his mind kept wandering back to the number of times he’d caught Ignis’ elbow or helped him up when he tripped. Even more worrying, though Ignis relearning how to fight, Talcott wouldn’t be able to watch his back.

Prompto knew better than to argue when Ignis made a decision, however, and in only a few days he was gone and Prompto was alone in Lestallum, the last bastion of civilization.

* * *

He took to talking to his plants, a few ferns that didn’t need much water or sunlight. They were his only company in the cramped apartment that somehow felt too big on his own. Prompto helped with the refugee efforts as much as he could, checked in on Iris, and even went on a few missions with some Glaives who had taken up residence in the city.

He tried to keep up his love of photography, and offered any decent shots to Vyv free of charge, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it anymore. Not when there was no one to share it with. The love he’d once had for his pictures felt so far away from him, a relic of another lifetime. A life before the train, before the Keep.

Before the nightmares.

He’d never told the others and somehow, in the short time they’d all shared the apartment, they’d never found out. Some days, however, he spent more nights talking to his ferns than actually sleeping.

* * *

The first time Ignis came back, the relief made Prompto feel drunk. Talcott was a ball of energy, full of exciting stories about their research, but Prompto wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he focused on Ignis.

The Advisor wasn’t sporting any new scars, thank goodness. He looked tired, though, and less than satisfied with the small amount they’d managed to learn. Maybe it was because they’d been apart for over a month, but Prompto saw something in the furrow of Ignis’ brow and the clench of his jaw that the blond hadn’t noticed before. He looked like a man running away from something—or maybe desperately running towards something. He was running in either case, which was slightly terrifying.

Ignis never ran.

Later that night, after Talcott had been collected by Monica, Prompto finally dared to ask if everything was alright.

“Fine,” Ignis said quickly, trailing a hand along the counter until he found the sink and set his empty mug inside. “If you don’t mind, Prompto, I think I’ll turn in.” Did he add that too quickly? Prompto wasn’t sure. Maybe he was only imagining it. He hoped he was.

That night he dreamed. He dreamed of snow and clanking armor. He dreamed of trudging through the frozen wastes while his body simultaneously felt the burning strain of being suspended by his arms. Broken and trussed up, he somehow watched another version of himself in a suit of Magitek armor jerkily raise his arm to point his pistol at an unsuspecting Ignis. His scream was drowned out by the crack of gunfire and crimson painted the newly fallen snow in an ugly swath.

“Prompto?” Ignis gasped, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth with the words.

“Prompto!” There were hands on him. Hands that would hurt and he wanted to fight but he couldn’t move. They didn’t hit or bite into his flesh, though, only shook him.

“Prompto! Prompto, wake up!”

Prompto shot awake with a gasp, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead. He was cocooned in his blanket and it was a struggle to free his limbs. His heart hammered as he drank in the stuffy apartment air and his eyes adjusted to the dim room. Ignis was kneeling beside his bed, one hand still on Prompto’s shoulder. He was dressed in the white and blue striped pajamas that Prompto had seen hundreds of times but that now looked absurd in a world that seemed more like something out of a zombie movie than reality.

“I’m up,” Prompto finally croaked, finally freeing his hands and scrubbing at his face. Ignis relaxed. He wasn’t wearing the visor he’d picked up somewhere to replace his dark glasses. It was rare that Prompto got to see all of his face like this these days. He’d learned to read Ignis’ emotions by how tense his jaw muscles were. Right now, however, it wasn’t just his jaw that was calm. His forehead was unwrinkled and his eyes were closed almost serenely. Was that what relief looked like? It seemed he’d forgotten.

“How long have you been having nightmares?” Ignis asked after a moment. The tension was beginning to creep back into his face. A small line formed between his brows. The question wasn’t accusatory, but Prompto still roughly shook Ignis’ hands off. He nearly vaulted from the bed to seek the safety of the bathroom’s locked door.

He stopped in the doorway, one hand gripping the worn wood of the doorframe.

“What are you really looking for in the tombs?” he asked. His voice was still shaky from the nightmare, and a bit too high.

Ignis didn’t answer right away. Prompto’s back was to him, but he heard the rustle of sheets and the squeak of the mattress as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not trying to exclude you, Prompto, but I’m afraid that’s my burden to bear,” the Advisor said at last. Prompto bit his lip hard enough that he tasted copper.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ve all got our own stuff, huh?” he muttered.

Prompto stayed in the bathroom for the rest of the night after splashing his face with cold water, finally drifting off propped up against the door. By the time he woke up and dared to venture back into the rest of the apartment, rubbing at a crick in his neck, Ignis was gone again.

* * *

They found a routine. Ignis would disappear for a month or two with Talcott and then he’d return and spend a few days with Prompto before vanishing again. After that first trip, Prompto never asked what he was searching for again, but whatever it was Ignis didn’t appear to be finding it. He seemed more hardened, more resigned, with each expedition.

Prompto, meanwhile, kept up his work doing his part to help defend the city. His nightmares ebbed and flowed, but they were always worse when Ignis was there. After that first visit he bought a lock for his bedroom door. Once, he woke to what he thought was knocking on the wood, disoriented with tears drenching his pillow. The knocking stopped as soon as he was fully awake, however, and Ignis didn’t mention it the following morning.

They kept this dance up for a year and then two and then five, and the wounds never seemed to fully heal for either of them.

* * *

It was five years since Noct had gone when Ignis asked if he could stay for longer than a week. He and Talcott had explored every royal tomb on the continent, some of them more than once. By now he could cook and fight as well as he ever could when he could see and when Prompto agreed the first thing he did was stock the kitchen.

Part of Prompto was glad that Ignis would be around more, but part of him was also scared. His subconscious clearly couldn’t control itself around the man. How much worse would it get when he was a permanent roommate and not an occasional guest?

The first night they were officially roommates, Ignis cooked green curry soup and Prompto almost cried. For just a moment, when he took the first bite, the world seemed right again, never mind that Gladio and Noctis weren’t with them.

Prompto went to bed that night more at peace with the world than he had been in years.

The sound that woke him was muffled through two sets of doors, but it still dragged him from his dreamless slumber. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, straining to catch the sound again.

There it was. A hitch of breath, a soft hiccup: someone was crying. He felt his own dry cheeks for a bizarre moment before the truth dawned on him. Prompto was out of bed before he could think. He tugged uselessly at his own door for a moment before remembering to unlock it and finally yanking it opened. Two steps carried him across the hall to Ignis’ door, where he hesitated. Ignis was a proud man, he’d hate to be caught crying. Then another choking sob filled the air and Prompto threw the door opened.

Ignis was curled on his side under the blankets, shuddering and whimpering in his sleep. Prompto was there in a moment, shaking him, and almost got a dagger in his throat for his trouble.

“It’s me! It’s Prompto!” he gasped, jerking back before the blade could bite into his skin. The weapon vanished as quickly as it had been conjured and Ignis blinked one milky eye at him.

“Prompto?” he repeated. He sounded hoarse and for a moment Prompto wasn’t sure if he should stay. Before he could decide, however, a hand grabbed his wrist and tugged. His eyes widened as he was pressed against a solid chest, long arms looping around him.

“You’re here,” Ignis whispered.

“Uh…yeah, where else would I be?” Prompto replied, stiff with shock. All he could see were threadbare white and blue stripes.

“I dreamed of the train…gods, I always dream of the train. Of Noct’s voice saying that you’re gone. I thought we’d lost you that day, Prompto, truly.”

Prompto drank in that information and stiffened further when he felt two droplets drip into his hair. _What?_

“Iggy…” he whispered. _‘I always dream…’_ Ignis had said. Was it possible? Was Ignis equally plagued?

“Iggy…how long have you been having nightmares?” Prompto whispered, unconsciously repeating a question Ignis had asked him five years ago. And just as Prompto had done then, Ignis didn’t answer him.

“I can’t stop what’s coming” Ignis sighed instead, and tightened his hold when Prompto tried to pull away. “I’ve wasted too much time, and time isn’t a commodity any of us should be wasting.”

Prompto’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

“Iggy…are you saying…?” he whispered, but couldn’t finish the thought.

“I’m saying I’ve known where I belonged for a while, now, Prompto, and I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me.”

Prompto swallowed but his throat had constricted too much to let him speak so he only nodded and climbed fully onto the bed, nearly throwing himself at Ignis. They tumbled back onto the pillows, but he didn’t care. And he didn’t care if his nightmares grew worse, because neither of them would have to face them alone anymore.


End file.
